Aug 23, 2013 1:35am EDT
: king phillip sent us here about a job for my wife. i'm not saying it has to be a good job but, again, we were referred by the king. all right, bear with me a sec. this thing's so freaking slow. i would make an excellent wandering minstrel. if i can play guitar on the stairmaster i certainly can do it while wandering. mmm, no. see, you're a woman. other than the yard-long margaritas we're pretty strict about historical accuracy. you're pretty much looking at cleaning wench, stable wench or butter- churning wench. are you sure you don't have any openings for a queen? warrior princess? is cleaning-wench go over the highest-ranking wench? highest? ( laughing ) oh, uh... yes. ( sighs ): i am sweating like a horse here. well, what happened to you? ( english accent ): i was punished for my sloth and impertinence. why are you talking like that? ( texas accent ): honey, you don't want the king to catch you breaking character. once he put me on stable duty for humming an elvis song. follow me, fair visitors. to our tasks. everyone! villagers approach! i hope you enjoyed the stable and the sty.
Aug 24, 2013 1:35am EDT
. they got these fiddle contests there. i used to judge them till they found out i was taking bribes. boy, the best players in the world go to branson. you thinking what i'm thinking? ooh, could i wear a sun dress and play in my bare feet? and we could be your backup band: the dale gribble bluegrass experience. hmm. i like it. aw, no. i'm going to be in fort worthless that weekend auditioning for van boring. ah. well, that's a kick in the teeth. bobby! okay. ♪ blue moon of kentucky keep on shining ♪ ♪ shine on the one that's gone and left... ♪ ( kahn screams ) kahn jr., what is that noise you're making? it sounds like you're killing a seagull with a bagpipe. it's bluegrass, kahn. music made in america. and whether you like it or not your daughter's a natural. mm-hmm. and i'm having more fun than a dog up a bone tree. that's how you say it's fun in bluegrass. ( screaming ) that inbred music is designed so only people with six fingers can play it. your path is van cliburn camp to harvard to new york philharmonic-- not hay wagon to hee haw. time to pack! we love you, honey. phone as
Aug 21, 2013 1:35am EDT
no rhythm and they think they can beat us? oh, no. not two years in a row. and dancers to the floor. now, remember-- rock step, rock step, glide step, windmill. okay, let's do it. one and two and... clear the floor, you two. what? we're out? i refuse to acknowledge any tap before you have seen us windmill. don't make me tap you again. it's not over. hank, come on, windmill. come on, windmill! windmill! ...and he kissed the bride. ♪ my god! what happened to you? yeah, i looked pretty good back then, didn't i? 'course that was before lenore started cheating on me. two weeks before. ( sobbing ) uh... uh, yeah, but... but can't you meet someone else like on the internet? you can use your old picture. no, no, no. what are the odds of me finding another beautiful, classy lady passed out in my lap at a molly hatchet concert, huh? what about me? you think another pretty asian girl is going to move in next door? nope. you get one chance at love and if you screw that up you're going to be alone forever. what about this one? "dear bobby, i'll love you forever. connie." that was a lie. i had a let